


Perfect

by ShaneShenanigans



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Crying, Emotions, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 17:46:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneShenanigans/pseuds/ShaneShenanigans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One in which Cecil is a childish jerk, and Carlos is insecure. Followed by one in which Cecil is actually the world's sweetest jerk, and Carlos is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> All righty! So... yeah, I took a break from Welcome to North Vale to write this, but I'll get back on track with that ASAP! Basically I was just having immense Cecilos feels with lots of emotions and this thing sort of wrote itself.
> 
> I can't say there are any real things to warn you about... it gets angst-y and maybe painful but it has a happy ending, so... I mean, please enjoy?
> 
> Also, want to mention that I'm sort of just trying some things out on these guys to get a feel for them, which will make writing my other, multi-chaptered fic more comfortable. I know I'm going out on a limb with the way they're characterized (especially Cecil) but I'm hoping others can find it accurate enough.

Carlos couldn’t focus. Trying to work was the equivalent of trying to block out everything else in the universe, and it wasn’t happening. It hadn’t been like this before. Before, ignoring the world and focusing on his experiments and studies was the thing he was most accustomed to. He was almost known for it. Never being close with anyone, rarely accepting plans to go out, or do anything that wasn’t related to academics. He didn’t mind what people said about him and he didn’t care if people decided they didn’t want to be around him. He was alone with his investigations, his interests, his hobbies and he liked it that way.

But then he almost died.

He almost died, and what had he accomplished? He was a scientist? What did that even mean?

Since then he’d come back to the answer. It meant discovering more, going further than anyone else, cutting your own path and coming back with answers no one else had. It was amazing, he was amazing, he was doing so well. Even though he’d hit his road blocks in Night Vale, he was still moving, and this place was an absolute gold mine for discovery once he found out what to look for and how to look at it.

But that day, at the Bowling Alley and Arcade Fun Complex, he’d almost lost his life. He could hear Cecil’s voice over the radio faintly from the entrance to the pin retrieval area while lying in the miniature city, still being attacked. Cecil was sobbing, already convinced that Carlos was dead. Cecil was actually crying. And something about it had convinced Carlos as well, that he was going to die.

They were still attacking. Many had retreated to avoid being smashed by his body when he fell, but they were back to finish him, and he couldn’t move.

He heard Cecil mention still holding the trophy, and he laughed, lying there in his own blood. It was a silent laughter, he couldn’t get anything out, not really. But for some reason he laughed. Because he remembered rolling his eyes at the invitation. He remembered looking at the caller ID and seeing the words “Radio Host” and wanting to ignore the call. He didn’t hate Cecil but he didn’t have time to stumble around multiple date offers.

He remembered thinking the notion was utterly ridiculous. He was busy, had things to do, and he didn’t need fake awards or award ceremonies. He said he was going to go, though, and he’d planned to. But then, things came up. And then, suddenly he was dying in a pool of his own blood.

And now it all seemed terribly funny, because he was dying. He’d be laying here, dead, and Cecil was crying, genuinely, and that was the only thing Carlos had anymore. It was funny, because Cecil would likely be the only one who would cry for his death.

And then, it stopped being funny, and was terrifying.

And then, he was alive. He was alive and safe and someone else had died for him. A good man, Cecil called him. The “racist embarrassment”, a good man now, for saving a man’s life, for dying for someone else. Carlos couldn’t help but agree, and not just because it was his own life.

Not only was he burdened now with a near-death experience, but with the knowledge that he was alive only because of someone else. He owed the Apache Tracker his life… and he didn’t even actually know his name.

His life, which was nothing. No one, just himself and the people he worked for, and those who praised him for his efforts and discoveries. They were his life, but they weren’t him. People would miss his scientific genius and advancements, but no one would miss anything else. They wouldn’t miss _him._ The moments after he’d been brought back to life were the most horribly, lonely moments he’d ever been through.

Teddy kept trying to examine him further, even as he got up. He was on his feet and the man was still fussing with one of the wounds on his side, even though the bandages would heal. Less than politely, Carlos pushed him away.

“I’m fine.” He’d said, and took out his cell phone right then and there.

That day, Carlos gave in. It wasn’t as if he’d never thought about Cecil before then, about being in a relationship with him. On the more hopeless nights, he’d humored it, because Cecil was good-looking, and because he seemed nice enough.

But he always concluded with the fact that he was strange. Everyone here was strange, but Cecil was extra strange, and his infatuation was strange. It was all very hard to trust and there was no way he had time for a normal relationship, let alone one with someone so odd, who likely had ulterior motives. There was no innocent explanation, and if they thought it was going to work on him, they were crazy.

But he heard Cecil’s tears that day and in one spontaneous, whimsical act, he returned fire.

He remembered wanting to laugh, almost chuckling, when Cecil was asking about dangers or investigations and scientific exploration. He couldn’t tell if it was just what he thought Carlos wanted him to feel, or if he really believed that was the only reason Carlos could possibly call on him anymore. Either was believable, as in the past Carlos has always made his non-personal intentions disgustingly clear.

And his face when Carlos replied, not even sure of the words that were coming out of his mouth, only sure that they were honest. He didn’t know how he could have thought this was something not to be trusted. How he didn’t see the potential, what he could have had before now.

“Sometimes things seem so strange, or malevolent. But then you realize that underneath; it was something else all together. Something pure, and innocent.”

“I know what you mean.” He’d said, but Carlos wasn’t sure Cecil did. It didn’t matter, though. He was in a haze of the high of a near-death-experience and something about this moment gave him complete security. And nothing in the world had ever felt better than, or would ever feel better than, Cecil’s head on his shoulder that night.

Which is precisely the reason he couldn’t focus on work, now, a little over two months later.

No thought in his mind could deny that that night was amazing. He felt so amazing. Even their first date, when Cecil touched his cheek while he was working and he smoothly pretended not to notice. And then the first kiss, surprising both himself and Cecil in the car outside his lab.

It was still there. He could still feel it, but it was far away now. _The honeymoon is over,_ he kept telling himself. _It’s work and commitment now._

But it was hard, so fucking hard, when he constantly felt like he was the only one doing any work.

He took off his glasses and pressed his thumb and pointer finger into his closed eyes, rubbing at them as if trying to rub the thought from his mind.

He liked Cecil. A lot. He was great! Most of the time... But he was needy, particular, and always seemed to find something to complain about.

Come to think of it, why did he like Cecil? Why did he spend so much time trying to apologize and make things better after he went off in a fit, whining about stupid things like the way Carlos didn’t roll the toothpaste tube up as he used it, or if he just decided that Carlos wasn’t paying enough attention to him?

It was true, sort of, Carlos did spend much more hours of the week with his work these days than he did Cecil. Even when Cecil was over he pretty much left him on the couch watching TV by himself while he finished up some projects. He’d come over when he got to a stopping point, and for a while Cecil had been understanding and inviting, but then it stopped, and he was getting the cold shoulder on his own couch.

So, yes, honeymoon phase, over. Cecil wasn’t going to skip around talking about how perfect he was anymore. That was something of a relief as well as a problem. Because Cecil didn’t seem to understand that Carlos had work, responsibilities, and while he had put most of it off to spend time with Cecil a lot during the beginning, he couldn’t do that forever.

He was sick of it, really. Sick of his texts being ignored after Cecil asked to go out with him and Carlos said he was busy. Sick of calling and calling until finally Cecil picked up so he could apologize.

And now, he was being blatantly insulted. Sometimes he felt like he was the new Steve Carlsberg with Cecil, as all Cecil did when he came over was point out the flaws in every move Carlos made. Clearly, Cecil was mad at him. Permanently. But he hadn’t ended it yet, and sometimes, Carlos just wished he would.

In the beginning, Carlos had sacrificed and put aside everything he was for Cecil, he only worked after Cecil said good-bye. He always accepted invitations to go out, even when he was enthralled with a project. He even trained himself to chew quieter.

He didn’t want to go there. He didn’t like blaming others completely, he knew some of the problem was his, and his dedication to his work. He knew that… but he just kept wondering, what had Cecil ever sacrificed for _him_?

Maybe there were things Carlos wasn’t seeing. Or maybe he was just so self absorbed that he didn’t notice. He knew these were possibilities and always came back to the fact that he was the one who kept them from seeing each other. Until recently, that was. Cecil was texting him today, but he hadn’t once suggested they meet. And hadn’t for the past five days.

That was the thing. Cecil saw Carlos, saw his hair and his teeth and all those things that apparently made him ‘perfect.’ He was admiring him and wanting him from far away, without really knowing him, and now that he knew him, he couldn’t accept who he was. And Carlos didn’t think he could change for Cecil, he didn’t know if he had any obligation to.

So, it came to this. He couldn’t focus. He thought about all of the best times, and he wanted to make it up to Cecil. Put everything aside, promise not to put his work first every again. He wanted to be that.

But he loved what he did. More than he loved Cecil?

He didn’t know.

 _Did_ he love Cecil?

o-o-o-o-o

“I brought movies!” Carlos felt a tsunami of relief wash over him when Cecil walked through the door and appeared to be in a good mood.

He wasn’t going to fuck this up. He wasn’t. He was going to talk to Cecil, apologize, again, explain what he thought about the way Cecil behaved sometimes, and hopefully come to an understanding.

“Great!” Carlos’s smile was as sincere as it had been in a while. This was going to go so much more smoothly if Cecil was all right. “You seem happy.” Carlos quickly moved to take Cecil’s coat, making an effort not to miss a beat.

“Of course.” Cecil said as he walked by, almost as if boasting. “I’m with my perfect Carlos.”

 _Perfect._ There was that expectation again.

He wanted to stop taking it as a compliment. He wanted to stop falling so hard every time he heard Cecil say it. He certainly didn’t want his feelings for Cecil to only be about how much the man flattered him. Not to mention, they were both painfully aware of how imperfect Carlos was to Cecil now.

“What did you bring?” Carlos asked. Lots of movies and other pieces of media were banned in Night Vale. The banned category didn’t seem to follow any pattern that Carlos could place, he just knew that he found it odd that both The Fox and the Hound and The Lady Killers were on the list, right next to each other.

Cecil liked old movies, and Carlos wasn’t surprised when he held up Suddenly, Last Summer and Harvey. Fitting choices for someone that lived in Night Vale. Carlos had seen both, but he didn’t mind.

Carlos pointed to Harvey, as it was a classic and the other option mostly just managed to freak him out. Cecil seemed pleased with this and practically skipped into Carlos’s TV room to put it in.

“Carlos!” Cecil called, and Carlos paused to appreciate the way Cecil’s voice sounded when he was calling him from another room. “Why are there beakers on the coffee table?” He shouted, and Carlos shot forward and stumbled in the room to collect them.

“Ah, nothing. I was just…” he trailed off as he gathered them up. He really should have cleaned up before Cecil arrived. That would have been considerate, but we all knew how good Carlos was at being that.

Carlos vacated the small TV room of anything science-related. Except of course, the television and remote controls, which technically existed due only to scientific advancements, and well… never the couch--- he shook his head and told his mind to shut up.

Calmly, he sat down next to Cecil, leaving a small space between them. Cecil was hugging a pillow, as he often did, and leaned forward to pick up the DVD console remote.

“Cecil.” He said, and Cecil paused mid-reach, catching the soft seriousness in Carlos’s voice, and turning to look at him.

“Before we start, there’s something I want to talk about.” It took a lot for Carlos to just get that out. But that was the hardest part, he hoped. Now he had Cecil’s attention, hopefully he could get his understanding.

“What is it?” Cecil set down the remote and his pillow to give Carlos all ears. Carlos smiled just a tiny bit in appreciation for this. He was feeling good about this, this would sort things out, it would be okay.

“I just…” He paused. He had to start slow. “I just wanted to… apologize for the past few weeks. Because I know I’ve been caught up in my work and neglecting you. I know I’ve denied you visiting or going out with you too many times lately and I’m sorry, I should devote more of my time to you. But-”

“Oh, Carlos!” Cecil’s voice was as it had been the first few times they’d spoken. Lovestruck, and full of endearment. Carlos was so tempted to just leave it at that, let Cecil fall mindlessly in love with him again, over and over again, milk it until it was dry and things finally fell apart…

“It’s okay!” Cecil went on. “I--.”

Carlos cut him off with a firm voice. “That’s not all.”

Immediately, Cecil’s expression changed. It became icey, as if he was horribly offended just by having been interrupted. This was the problem. How fast and how easily he could make Cecil angry. He didn’t know whose fault it was but it wasn’t okay. This was what had to be fixed.

Carlos took Cecil’s hand, looking meaningfully into his eyes as they narrowed and his hand hesitated to be taken into both of Carlos’s palms.

“The other thing is…” He took a deep breath. “I have to assert this. This, my work, it’s very important to me. It’s my responsibility, and my hobby, and it’s something that I love doing. It’s not just a bad habit that gets in the way of us, it’s part of me… and I need you to respect that, sometimes.”

Cecil didn’t say anything.

“Sometimes I’m going to say no to seeing you because I’m working. These things are important to me, just like you are. I want to put you first, I really do, but you’re not the only thing in my life.”

“Okay.” Was all Cecil said. Carlos didn’t know how to interpret it, so he kept going.

“It just makes things really difficult… and it becomes hard to focus on my work when you won’t talk to me just because I say I can’t go out right now. I lose all of that valuable time that I sacrificed my time with you to have because I’m so worried over you being mad at me. I don’t like not being on good terms with you, Cecil…” He watched Cecil’s eyes move, and shift with his words.. He was, at very least, listening. “I can’t do my work right knowing that you’re angry with me.”

There was a silent pause.

“It’s because you’re important to me.”

“Okay.”

“So, I’m just asking… please, understand. If I can’t see you, it’s because I’m very busy. It’s my job. It’s the same if I were to call you during a broadcast and ask to go out to dinner.”

Carlos didn’t notice Cecil’s eyes narrow considerably.

“And then, if I were to get angry and cut you off because you can’t leave your booth.”

“I guess.” Cecil mumbled.

“I’m just saying, Cecil. I really want this to work. And I feel like it hasn’t really been lately, I know part of it is my fault, and I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“I really, really like you Cecil. I might even… need you. You’re something different in my life, something to ground me, keep me from turning into a mad scientist over all of these crazy Night Vale… things…” Carlos sighed. “I really want to stay with you, and I’ll do what it takes to make this work.”

More than anything, he just wanted to hear Cecil say the same thing.

But instead, he just watch Cecil’s face soften slightly, and saw him become less tense, more relaxed, and finally he said “Okay.”

Carlos wasn’t sure what that meant, but he made the decision to hope for the best, and smiled. He couldn’t expect much out of Cecil, this had been his own idea, and he’d probably taken the other man off guard.

Cecil nonchalantly turned to face the television again, and Carlos leaned over to kiss him on the corner of his mouth. He paused, not pulling back, begging, and pleading in his mind for Cecil to return the kiss. Because he needed that. At least that.

Cecil did, and everything inside Carlos felt warm. Tomorrow… maybe things would be different. He’d wake up early, he’d get his work in, and make time for Cecil in the evening. Everything would be okay.

It would be great.

o-o-o-o-o

Carlos switched on the radio when it was just static, just to make sure he didn’t miss anything. Often times Cecil would ask him about the broadcast after returning home, and occasionally Carlos was late to tune in and didn’t know how to reply. That was definitely not something he needed to go right today.

Things were never really slow in Night Vale as far as news. Some days were more insane than others, but there was always a mysterious death or two to report. The deaths that were slightly less mysterious were often left out of the news. It had to be an extra slow day for anything like you’re average every-day murder to even be mentioned.

 

He and Cecil hadn’t really talked after the movie. Carlos had kissed him off, and Cecil went home, looking tired, and having accidentally left his movies behind. That was fine, of course. They’d see each other again soon enough and he could return them.

The broadcast started with the usual nonsense line that Carlos had stopped bothering to try and interpret, and then went into some news about the Pinkberry officially changing its name to Blueberry in the Night Vale location, due to the fact that “there’s no such thing as a Pinkberry.” And “Blue is a better color anyway.”

_When confronted over this statement by intern Sharlene, whose favorite color is pink, the proprietor of the new Pinkberry- now Blueberry, knocked the microphone out of her hand, and then stared her down as if threatening her to challenge him again. Some nearby members of the secret police arrived on the scene and made him pay for the damaged equipment, though some agreeing that they did in fact prefer the color blue over the color pink._

_Now, listeners, I know I’ve been taking time out of quite a few shows for personal things, but there’s something I want to talk about today that I feel many of you may be able to relate to._

_Are you ever in a relationship and you feel as if you’re expected to organize naturally occurring feelings in the correct situation and order, only allowing the ones the other person desires upon command to show?_

_Do you ever feel as if the other person expects you to just keep smiling and accepting when they don’t call or text you back or ever want to see you?_

_Are you ever told things like “I can’t do science knowing you’re angry with me.” As if you’re being blamed for reacting in a completely normal manner after being harshly rejected in favor of beakers and humming electrical equipment?_

_Are you ever made to put yourself down because the other person implies that being with you is work, or a chore, or is too time consuming?_

  
_Do you ever just want to say things like “Hey, don’t forget. You called me in the middle of a show and I came straight to the Arby’s even though I was in the MIDDLE of WORKING?”_

_Are you thereafter made to feel trapped in the relationship, as the other person---_

_Hold on just one moment, listeners, it seems my phone has gone off multiple times over the past few minutes and doesn’t seem to be stopping. I’m going to answer it._

“Hello?” Cecil asked, as if he didn’t even have caller ID.

“Put me on speaker phone.” Carlos’s voice was like venom. Cecil huffed at the tone of voice, but did as he was told.

“Okay.” Cecil cleared his throat audibly. “You’re on speaker phone.” He said, and waited.

“You. Are. A. Child.” Carlos heard his own voice, loud and clear, through the radio as he said the words into the receiver, and then hit his thumb so hard against the end button on his touch screen that he heard his knuckles crack.

Cecil sat quietly, staring at the phone as the call was ended and it returned to the home screen.

He didn’t know what to say about that. It wasn’t what he was expecting. What was he expecting? Maybe he was expecting Carlos to try and defend himself or maybe even apologize, as he so often did when Cecil had a complaint… but he wasn’t expecting that.

It wasn’t the words. It was the tone, the way his voice halfway through, like he was either on the verge of tears or so angry he couldn’t keep his voice steady.

Cecil swallowed, and for once in his life, felt like he couldn’t speak. He couldn’t leave his booth. There was no way he could do that… not until at least the weather. He wanted to call Carlos back… but he couldn’t do that either. He couldn’t waste airtime trying to dial Carlos, not knowing if he would even pick up. Who knew what station management would do?Did he really have to continue doing the show after that? Feeling this way? How could Carlos do this to him?

Cecil cleared his throat, and remembered as he shuffled together some of the packets in front of him that all of the NVCR listeners had also heard what Carlos said.

He had to go on. They were probably already so confused, and maybe some, just a few, had put the whole thing together and deduced that he and Carlos were in a fight. He had to save this, had to change the subject, move onto something else.

_…In other news, listeners…_

Carlos turned off the radio when Cecil began to continue like nothing had happened. He felt very empty. He was emotionally exhausted and he didn’t have much left to feel anything further. He’d tried, and failed, and he didn’t have any the capacity remaining to bother caring about who to blame. He just wanted this to be over. For it to go back to the way it was when everything was simple.

Without a word or a thought that he would have later been able to place or recall, he grabbed his car keys, and was out the door.

o-o-o

Cecil had thought he might have felt better once he was back into his zone and talking about the news, the going-ons of his favorite town with all of his favorite people. But it was hard. Harder than it had ever been before and he was sure that he pulled if off, but not a single listener would ever know how much it took. And it didn’t stop being hard because he kept looking at his phone with high hopes and it kept telling him zero texts, and zero missed calls.

As soon as he played the weather, he was out the door. Interns sent him questioning glances and he silently wished painful death upon them as he exited the recording booth.

He didn’t know what he was going to say to Carlos. He didn’t even bother trying to call, he wanted to see him in person. Why? Because… he was sorry. He knew how he was, he wasn’t _dumb_ , or blind. He knew he was being… unreasonable, maybe even childish (though he didn’t want to go _too_ far.)

The last thing he expected when he walked out the front doors to the station was to see Carlos there, leaning against his car. He was only a few feet from where the shape from grove park used to be, when it vaporized Leland, and he looked nearly just as menacing.

Actually, he didn’t. It was just Cecil’s horrid dislike of having others direct anger toward him that made him initially think that Carlos was looking menacing.

He looked normal. He met Cecil’s eyes with no readable expression—but as Cecil came closer he found that the expression was empty, cold, just a stare as if Carlos was looking straight through him as opposed to at him.

Carlos was on the passenger side of the vehicle, his own sporty yet affordable Hybrid Coup. He stepped aside, and opened the door, gesturing Cecil to get inside without saying a word. Cecil gathered himself, and took firm steps forward toward the car, getting in, and slamming the door shut behind him. He knew Carlos didn’t like that. It was one of the few little things that got on Carlos’s nerves.

But Carlos still didn’t say anything when he got into the driver’s side, and still nothing when he started the car and began to drive.

“Where are we going?” Cecil asked.

Carlos’s face visibily darkened as Cecil looked at it, and he still said nothing. Cecil had to look away from Carlos, as all of his perfect features were terrifying now and--- no, they weren’t that. They were heart-breaking.

Cecil would reiterate the fact that he wasn’t dumb had he been broadcasting these moments as they happened. He would say that he had an idea what Carlos had in mind when he pulled into the parkinglot of the Arby’s. He wanted to break down, to fall apart, he never wanted _this_ but instead all he could do was ask…

“Why are we here?” His voice was quiet, somber, and he hadn’t planned it to be.

Carlos sighed as he turned off the car. “This is where it started.” He said, not looking at Cecil. Instead he was looking out his window, at the sky above the Arby’s, where the lights would be visible once the sun set.

“I thought, maybe this is where it should end.”

Cecil’s heart plummeted into his gut, and seemed to sink and simmer in the acid, his chest and throat felt heavy, and literally, his heart began to beat hard.

“I know I’m not what you want.” Carlos said. “Even though you thought you did, and I know it’s hard for you to say that.”

“I’m not what you imagined I would be, in all of your wild dreams, and I can’t ever be.” Carlos was looking at him now, and Cecil was just staring, Staring at his eyes as he said these things, these lies, wondering how Carlos could ever think this… how someone so smart, and so aware, could ever be so _wrong._

 “So, I’ll make it easy for you.” Carlos went on. “You don’t have to make up excuses, or find reasons, you don’t have to say anything at all.”

“Just…”

“Stop.” Cecil interrupted, his voice having broken half-way through the one-syllable that he was able to get out.

Carlos’s expression became concerned, or perhaps, irritated. Irritated that this wasn’t going the way he planned and Cecil wasn’t just shutting up to let him leave.

“Stop.” Now his voice was deep, and firm, and intimidating, and he looked at Carlos with an icey gaze that made Carlos’s confidence in this moment retract.

“Why are you saying this?” Cecil’s breath was fast and heavy, he looked more angry, and more confused than Carlos had ever seen him before. “Why are you doing this? Why… how did you come to this conclusion?”

“All I’ve ever done is want to be with you and around you and see you, no matter where or why or how…” He went on. “How do you interpret that this way?”

Carlos blinked.

“I know sometimes I say things on air that I shouldn’t. But they’re just things! I’m just… I… I’m used to being passive aggressive, it’s basically my job and I go to a job where I can say anything that I want… unless, it violates laws set down by the council or involves mentioning things that they have decreed forbidden…” he trailed off. “…but sometimes little, annoying things come to mind and I just say them… and I know today I went overboard, and it was more than that, and I am _so_ sorry…”

“Cecil.” Carlos interrupted, this time his voice cracking. Cecil didn’t know it. He probably didn’t notice or keep track, but that was the first time he’d ever apologized to Carlos for something that wasn’t trivial, liking stepping on his shoe or touching him too much while he was working.

“It’s not that… I don’t think you want to see me.” Carlos went on. He watched Cecil flare up again at his words, but kept talking. “It’s just… I think you need someone who needs you to be there all the time. I think you need someone that depends on your presence and will do anything for you. And I would do _so much_ for you but I can’t as often as you want me to, and if I thought you’d be happy just watching me work I would let you be around me all the time but you—,”

“But I would!” Cecil interjected.

“What?” Carlos deflated.

“I would be fine with doing that! I like watching you do what you love, it’s the most beautiful thing in Night Vale!” He exclaimed. “I might get excited sometimes because you do things like tilt your head and purse your lips or bite the bottom one, or scratch your head, ruffling your hair and then realize you are wearing sterilized gloves and have to change one of them…”

“Cecil…”

“… and because of that I have trouble keeping my hands to myself, but don’t think it’s because I get bored.”

“Cecil.”

“You float around your tables with your test tubes and equipment and the little messes of samples scattered everywhere, and sometimes you ask me to hand you something and I do and you take it without looking at me and I love that because I feel like I’m part of what you’re doing. …And I feel dumb, sometimes, because you’ll turn to me and ask what I think but I can’t answer. And I can’t tell you it’s because I have only been paying attention to _you_ and not anything you’re doing and…”

“Cecil, stop.” Carlos took Cecil’s face in both of his hands. He pulled Cecil forward, eyes shut tightly, and pressed their foreheads together. Cecil wacthed his closed eyes through a silent pause, at the creases and crinkles of the pressed-together skin, strained and reddening, and he wanted to kiss them until they opened and the strain went away. “…I am _so much_ less than what you think I am.” He said, and Cecil felt his hands curl tightly into his hands. “And someday you’re going to figure that out.”

Carlos’s head fell away from Cecil’s and hung, but his hands stayed tightly tangled in his hair. It was as if he was letting go and holding on at the same time.

“Carlos.” Cecil said, and Carlos was almost sure he was listening to a broadcast, the way he said it. “You are so much more than what you think you are.”

Carlos lifted his head, and looked at Cecil’s eyes.

“Someday, you’ll figure that out.”

“Fuck.” Carlos had to look down again, shutting his eyes because he was sure he was going to cry and that was one thing Cecil never saw him do. One more thing that made him less perfect.

“Language.” Cecil murmured, as Carlos’s hands fell away from his head, sliding down over his ears, his neck, and settling on his shoulders.

Cecil looked at Carlos, his hair was all he could see, and waited, hoped, wondered. If he should say more, do more… touch him, hold him, or wait…

Carlos answered his question. He left his head and tilted it sideways in one motion and kissed Cecil, full on the mouth, pulling him closer by his shoulders until all he could feel were these lips on his and when they moved back against him. He wanted to say it, and he hoped this was how he could, that in this terrifying, extraordinary place with so many terrifying, extraordinary things, he found this extraordinary, amazing, indescribably beautiful person.

And he was _perfect._

o-o-o-o-o

“Here.” Carlos held out his hand, holding what Cecil could only identify at the time as a leather strap. The wrinkles in Carlos’s flannel shirt blocking his view as he lay his head on his shoulder. They were sitting on the trunk of Carlos’s car, just like they were that night, watching the lights.

“What is it?” Cecil lifted his head.

“A present.” Carlos answered. “A week from now is our anniversary, and I didn’t know what to get you.”

“A watch?” Cecil said, reaching out to take it from Carlos’s hand. Carlos closed his hand though, and gently took hold of Cecil’s wrist.

“It’s the only real clock in Night Vale.” Carlos smiled ironically. “It’s also worth a fortune outside of Night Vale, but I doubt it’ll have that value here.” He latched the two ends on Cecil’s wrist, and turned it over so the face was on top.

“Comfortable?” He asked, and Cecil nodded.

“Now you can keep track of all the minutes I spend without you, and I’ll make them up to you.”

Cecil snorted. “Time doesn’t work that way.” He said. “It’s not something you can just get back.”

Carlos laughed, because that, coming from Cecil, or anyone who lived in Night Vale might have been the most ironically hilarious things he’d ever heard. “I know.” Carlos said, and wrapped his arms around him from the side.

“I’m sorry about earlier.” Carlos finally said.

“You’re sorry too much.” Cecil shifted, and huffed, then sighed.

“Me too.” He mumbled against Carlos’s shoulder.


End file.
